


(don't) Make a Wish

by AverageMarvelBitch



Series: Stony Shorts [15]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, tw light mentions of abuse, tw suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23499652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AverageMarvelBitch/pseuds/AverageMarvelBitch
Summary: Steve and Tony have been married for years. Tony gave up everything (his wealth, his family, his future as Stark Industries’ CEO) to be with Steve. Steve and Tony have no money, crappy jobs and a lot of bills. Steve and Tony live in a small, horrible apartment. Steve starts to think that maybe Tony would have been better off if they had never gotten together. Steve makes a wish.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Sunset Bain/Tony Stark
Series: Stony Shorts [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1313690
Comments: 9
Kudos: 192





	(don't) Make a Wish

**Author's Note:**

> TW: Suicide and light mentions of abuse.

The ceiling was leaking again, this time right on the bed. It must have been leaking for a long time, considering the huge puddle that now covered the once dry mattress. Steve sighed, looking at it from the door. He was tired. He had just arrived from work, after a whole day of cleaning bathrooms and the most disgusting messes because, apparently, people were incapable of behaving like normal, hygienic human beings when they knew there was someone out there to clean up after them. In short, it had been a terrible day; he was exhausted, both physically and mentally, and the thought of sleeping on their crappy couch just made everything that much worse.

In the end, he decided to not bother at all with the mattress and just fix himself and Tony some dinner before the latter got home. He dragged himself to the kitchen, feeling not at all in the mood for cooking. Maybe something simple would do, like pasta or an omelette. Tony liked having breakfast food for dinner, so at least one of them would be happy. He opened the fridge and immediately frowned. No eggs, no milk… no nothing, actually. Hadn’t they just bought food a few days ago? How was it already gone? He closed the fridge and started rummaging through the cupboards. Still, he found nothing. Well, to be fair, he did find a package of instant noodles that was way out of its expiration date.  _ Great _ , he thought angrily to himself, throwing the package in the sink with more force than necessary,  _ no dinner tonight, I guess _ . Tony wouldn’t mind at all, of course. He never did. How many times had they gone without food, going to bed on empty stomachs? Tony had never complained once… and it drove Steve insane.

He knew he should be thankful that his husband was so understanding of their current situation. He should be thankful for a lot of things, but he just couldn’t. Every time something like this happened - when they couldn’t afford food, or heat, or rent -, something ugly just twisted inside of him, like a snake.  _ He deserves better than this _ , he would tell himself as he watched Tony shiver from the cold, with a smile in his lips like it wasn’t a big deal at all.  _ I was supposed to give him a good life _ , he’d scream inside his own head as his husband ate some crappy meal as if it was the best thing in the whole world. Steve knew these things shouldn’t bother, but by God, they did. It bothered him to no end that Tony didn’t seem to mind their situation at all. Tony, who had been born with a silver spoon in his mouth; who could have anything and everything he could ever want; who could be the most powerful and wealthy man in the world right now if he just hadn’t married Steve, a wannabe artist whose biggest masterpiece was a sparkly clean bathroom. Tony deserved better and Steve… Steve just wasn’t it.

“Honey, I’m home”, he heard the voice call from the other room and instantly smiled.

“In the kitchen”, he replied, closing the cupboards with yet another sigh. He knew exactly what was going to happen now… He would tell Tony they had no food and his husband would smile and just pretend everything was okay. Just pretend that Steve wasn’t a failure.

“Hey, you!” Tony greeted him with a kiss, putting two big bags on the table.

“What are these?”

“Chinese! I fixed this huge issue with the security system today and they gave me a huge bonus for it. I thought about getting groceries, but I know you’ve been craving dumplings for months, so… yay!” the smaller man replied, all at once, smiling like a child on Christmas.

Steve gulped and forced a smile himself, nodding. “Thank you”.

“You’re very welcome, husband”, he said, pecking Steve on the lips, not noticing Steve’s discomfort at all, “Don’t worry, though, I’ll get us groceries tomorrow”.

“The bed is wet”, Steve blurted out, “Stupid ceiling is leaking again”.

Tony snorted, shaking his head. He was about to reply, but stopped, then smiled at Steve, mischievously.

“I have an idea. Get the plates and the food, meet me at the living room”.

He left in a hurry, leaving a very confused Steve behind. He did as he was told, picking plates, glasses and cutlery, and taking them precariously in his arms, along with the food, to the living room.

He stopped dead on the door, watching as his husband put the finishing touches to what appeared to be an improvised tent.

“What do you think?” Tony asked, presenting his ‘surprise’ with a look of extreme glee.

“We’re camping?”

“Might as well, I mean… There’s rain and everything”, he explained, pointing to the bucket nearby, filled with water, “so it’s like the outside, but less bugs, so… you know… all the awesome, none of the gross”.

Steve couldn’t help but smile, shaking his head.

“You’re a crazy person”.

“Yeah, but I’m  **your** crazy person… forever”, he whispered the last part, pointing at his ring on his finger.

Steve chuckled and settled down inside the tent. They ate their food while talking about their day and what they would be able to buy the next day, at the grocery store. Tony was especially excited about buying some chocolate, something he dearly missed. Steve’s heart broke a little with this, but he tried very hard not to show it. They talked and talked until Tony, unable to keep his eyes open any longer, drifted off to sleep on the hard floor, his head resting securely on Steve’s chest. He ran his fingers through his husband’s hair, staring fixedly at a random point. The guilt and the sorrow continued to eat him up from the inside and, not for the first time, tears filled his eyes as he turned them to his husband’s sleeping form.  _ You deserve so much more than this _ , he thought to himself, blinking as the tears streamed down his face,  _ you deserve so much more than a cold floor to sleep in and an empty fridge. _

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

_ I wish we had never met _ , was his final thought before his mind finally quieted and sleep took him.

* * *

The next time Steve opened his eyes, he was met with a perfectly white ceiling, which was odd considering their ceiling was more on the gray side of the scale. He blinked once, twice, sure that it was just a weird dream or that maybe he wasn’t seeing quite right, but the ceiling remained white as a pearl. He used his arms to support himself as he got up and, instead of feeling the hardness of the floor where Tony and he had fallen asleep, he felt the softness of a very much dry mattress. His brain tried desperately to find a reasonable explanation for his current situation, but it came back empty. Still confused and unsure of where he was and how he had gotten there, Steve walked out the bedroom and through a small corridor, towards what appeared to be an empty kitchen. There were two pieces of toast in a plate and a cup of steaming coffee on the table. He tensed, looking around. Someone had left those there not too long ago.

“Tony?” he asked, hesitantly peeping through the door that led to the living room.

“Who’s Tony?”

Steve jumped back, slamming his head against the door frame with a yelp.

Bucky snorted, walking to the table. He stole a piece of toast from the plate, taking a big bite out of it.

“So, who’s Tony? Did you pick up a guy at the exhibit last night? ‘Cause I swear to God, Stevie, if you did, you guys must have had the most quiet sex in history ‘cause I heard nothing”, he joked, chewing his toast.

“What... “, Steve didn’t know what to say. Either Bucky and Tony were playing a joke on him or something was terribly, horribly wrong.

He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. He just stood there, confused, while Bucky ate his toast, completely unaware of the turmoil inside Steve’s head.

“Dude, are you going to work or what? You’re gonna be late and Potts is going to murder you”.

Steve’s eyes widened at the mention of Pepper Potts. Maybe… Maybe he could get some answers. Maybe Pepper would know what the hell was going on.

“Stevie, are you okay?”, Bucky asked, sounding worried, “You’re acting weird, punk, are you feeling alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m… I’m okay, Buck, sorry, just... “ he trailed off, lost in his thoughts once more, making the frown on Bucky’s face deepen.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I drank a bit more than I should last night, my mind is kinda blank right now. Where… Where do I work again?”

Bucky narrowed his eyes, dropping the half eaten toast back on the plate and crossing his arms across his chest, settling in the chair he was sitting.

“Are you trying to tell me that you drank so much last night that you don’t remember where you work?”

Steve shrugged nervously, “I know, okay? I’m embarrassed enough as it is”.

Bucky stared at him for a long moment before sighing and uncrossing his arms.

“Brooklyn Gallery of Contemporary Art. Does that ring a bell?”

It did, in fact, ring a bell. Working at the Brooklyn Gallery of Contemporary Art had been one of Steve’s dreams as a young boy. He recalled the very first time he had stepped foot inside the place, holding his mother’s hand, completely fascinated by the beautiful, breathtaking masterpieces that adorned the walls. He had even applied to work there, as a curator, years later, but hadn’t even been called for an interview. The blame, of course, laid on Howard Stark, who had thought preventing Steve from achieving his goals as an artist would be enough to make him abandon Tony. Little did he know that no job, no opportunity, not even the advices of Vincent Van Gogh himself, could ever make Steve choose anything but Tony.

“Right. Thanks, Buck. I’m going to change”.

“Steve”, Bucky called, making Steve turn around and look at him, “You’d tell me if there was something wrong, right? Like, if you started having memory problems or whatever”.

Steve bit the inside of his cheek and forced a smile, “Of course. Don’t worry, I swear it’s no big deal”.

“Okay. Okay”, Bucky softly replied, nodding.

Steve nodded right back and turned back towards the corridor, his smile turning into a worried frown.  _ I need to find out what the hell is going on _ .

* * *

Steve spent the entire drive to work thinking about his current situation. He decided to entertain the possibility that maybe, just maybe, this was all a dream. Maybe their crappy ceiling had finally collapsed on their heads and now Steve was in a coma, living a life-like dream… or nightmare was more like it, since Tony was nowhere to be found. That was another thing that bothered him to no end… Where the hell was Tony? Why didn’t Bucky know who Tony was? Why was Steve apparently living in a whole different apartment with Bucky? Nothing made sense. The only thing that reassured him, at least a little bit, was the fact that the city he had grown up in looked pretty much the same. That had to be a good sign, right?

He parked his car - because he had a car, how crazy was that - in the private parking lot outside of the gallery and couldn’t stop the pride that seemed to feel his chest when he saw the little plaque on a particular spot that said “reserved for Steve Rogers”. Apparently, he not only had the job of his dreams, but he also was important enough to have his own parking spot. He crossed the parking lot and entered the gallery, receiving several greetings from people who clearly knew him, but he had no idea who they were.

“You’re late”.

Pepper looked exactly the same; red hair, freckles that she refused to hide under makeup, and heels that made her look twice as tall, not that she needed them. Pepper Potts had that kind of energy that let everyone in the room know that she was the boss and going against her would be a mistake.

“Sorry, Pep… Miss Potts”, he replied, when he saw her eyebrows rise slightly at the mention of her given name, “It won’t happen again”.

“I’m not mad, Rogers. Lateness is not acceptable, but it’s hardly grounds for punishment”, she said, rolling her eyes as she gave him a white clipboard, “We have some new pieces for you to evaluate. Follow me”.

Steve did as he was told, deciding that remaining silent was the best approach at the moment. Clearly, Pepper and he were not close. At least, not as close as they were in… well, real life, maybe? He didn’t know how to name this two very different realities in his head.

“Did you have a chance to check how many of your pieces were sold last night?”

He stopped dead on his tracks, looking at Pepper with astonished eyes.

“My pieces?”

She turned around, confusion clear on her face.

“Yes, Rogers, your pieces. Four of them were sold last night, didn’t Sophia tell you?” she explained, walking once again, forcing Steve to follow her, “We’ve had offers for the other two, so we’re auctioning them off next week, at the next exhibit. You can check with Sophia how much each one made, but I’m sure you’ll be very pleased with the amount”.

Steve’s brain was blank. Not only had he showed his art in a honest to God art gallery, but people had also paid actual money for them. It was crazy. Not even in his wildest dreams did he ever think this would happen. He had never dared even think about something like this, and yet, here he was. The feeling of pride inside of his chest seemed to intensify and he smiled, unable to contain his happiness.

“That’s incredible. Thank you, miss Potts, I’ll definitely check with Sophia”.

They took the stairs down to a big, well lit room full of the most exquisite paintings. Steve felt like he was in heaven. He looked around in awe, savoring the moment. The artist inside of him, who had been silenced by years of washing bathroom floors and cleaning dirty toilets, roared in pleasure at the very sight.

“Well, you have a lot of work ahead of you. You know what to do”, and with a final nod, Pepper left the room, closing the door behind her.

Steve took a moment to situate himself. He sat down at the nearby desk and took a deep breath.  _ Everything is going to be fine _ , he thought to himself,  _ I just need to find Tony. _ He quickly passed his eyes around the desk, looking at the many papers that neatly covered it, when it hit him. He could call Tony’s number! It was a long shot, but really, what else could he do? He got his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed the number he knew so well. It rang; once, twice.

“Hello?”

The voice on the other side didn’t sound like Tony at all, but still he tried, heart full of hope, “Tony?”

“No, sorry, this is Franklin Nelson, from Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law”.

“Oh, sorry. Wrong number”, Steve whispered softly, feeling all hope leave his body.

“It’s cool, man. You might want to keep this number, though, in case you ever need a lawyer”.

“Yeah, thanks”, he said, before hanging up.

He let the cell phone slip from his fingers and fall on the desk. The emptiness in his chest was suffocating. Tired and dejected, Steve finally let the tears fall.

He didn’t do any work after the call. He just couldn’t. Even his dream job wasn’t enough to take Tony out of his mind. Hours passed as he sat there, coming up with numerous plans to find his husband, each crazier than the other. From hiring a private investigator to finding a tear on the very fabric of reality that would allow him to leave this alternate universe, Steve had considered every single possibility, every solution imaginable and, honestly, he was feeling crazy enough at the moment to try literally anything.

He got up only when the clock struck five, leaving the room in a fast pace, head down as he passed other people. 

“Steve!” a voice called from across the room.

He stopped and watched as a young woman ran towards him, an envelope on her hand.

“Hey! You forgot to pick up your check!” the woman, who he supposed was Sophia, said with a bright smile, “You must be over the moon! A big check AND a painting bought by a celebrity!”

Something in Steve’s head snapped as he took the check absentmindedly. 

“What celebrity?”

“Tony Stark!” she replied cheerfully, waving him goodbye before going back to wherever she had come from.

Steve stood there, check in hand.  _ Thank you, God, _ he thought to himself before quickly following Sophia.  _ I’m coming for you, Tony. _

Convincing Sophia to give up Tony’s address wasn’t easy. She adamantly refused at first, saying it was a very unethical thing to do. She wasn’t wrong about that. Steve insisted, though, desperate for the chance to finally see his husband again and maybe finally figure out what the hell was going on in this weird reality he found himself in.

“Look, I’m not going to just show up at his house like a crazy person. I’ll… I’ll deliver the painting he bought. You know, it would be a nice touch, the artist himself delivering the painting, thanking him for contributing to the gallery and everyone who works in it”.

Sophia pondered, clearly not convinced by Steve’s idea.

“Please. Sophia, this is very important to me. I promise you, I’m not going to screw this up!” he begged yet again, joining his hands in a pleading gesture.

“Oh, alright”, she relented, rolling her eyes with a small smile, “You win. Here’s the address”.

She texted him the address, shaking her head before putting her phone back in her purse.

“Don’t screw this up, Steve, because Pepper has plans to convince Stark to throw a benefit in favor of the gallery. She’ll kill you if you fuck this up for her”, Sophia warned, shaking her finger at the man.

“I won’t, I swear I won’t. Thank you so much, Sophia, you are an angel”, he replied, giving her a quick kiss on the head.

“You better not make me regret this”, she said with a sigh, “I’ll ask Jordan to put the painting in your car, just wait outside”.

Steve did as he was told, a hopeful smile in his face, feeling that maybe, just maybe, things were finally going to fall into place.

* * *

Stark Tower was so very Tony and somehow, nothing like him at all. His husband had always been bigger than life itself. He liked big gestures and expensive things, but was just as content with simple meals and a leaky ceiling, as long as he had someone he loved by his side. It made Steve love him all the more, but also feel even more guilty about their predicament. Tony deserved more. This is exactly what he deserved: a big tower in Manhattan with his name shining on the top; a garage full of expensive cars; a penthouse with a beautiful view of New York City. Apparently, in this awful reality, Tony had everything he could possibly desire and more. It was good. It was amazing. Steve didn’t know why he felt so horrible.

He took a deep breath and walked inside the building, painting in hand. The receptionist gave him no trouble at all, greeting him with a smile and, after a quick phone call to the penthouse, gave him permission to take the private elevator. The ride up was silent, save from the soft, almost imperceptible music that played on the background, and Steve found himself feeling more nervous than ever before. He didn’t know quite what to expect from his husband in this different world and, for the first time, he was scared of what he might find. The elevator gently came to a stop and Steve prepared himself, watching as the doors opened.

A woman was standing there, clearly waiting for him.

“Mr. Rogers?”

“Yes”, he replied, slightly lifting the painting, as to show her some proof.

She seemed satisfied with the answer and nodded, gesturing for him to follow her.

“You can leave the painting right here, I’ll call maintenance to put it up later”.

Steve delicately left the painting near a beautiful couch, a frown on his face. That face, that voice… The woman sounded familiar, but he couldn’t quite put a finger on it.

“It’ll look perfect over there, don’t you think?” she asked, pointing at an empty wall, “We’re having a dinner party tomorrow and I believe your painting will go perfectly with the plates”.

Steve bit his tongue and forced a smile, nodding to agree with the woman.

“Well, that will be all. You can go now”, she dismissed him, barely looking his way.

“Wait”, he exclaimed, making the woman look at him with raised eyebrows, “I… Is Mr. Stark around? I’d like to thank him personally for supporting our gallery”.

The woman snorted, shaking her head.

“Trust me, Mr. Rogers, my husband had nothing to do with that”.

The words echoed inside Steve’s head, mocking him.  _ Husband, _ he thought, completely lost,  _ she called him husband _ . Her mouth was still moving, but Steve couldn’t hear anything anymore.

“Mr. Rogers!” the woman called out, a hint of anger on her voice, pulling Steve out of his thoughts, “As I said, my husband will not be joining us, but I’ll be sure to pass your gratitude to him, even though it will mean nothing at all. Now, please leave”.

Steve gulped, nodding and turned around, dragging himself to the elevator. He watched the woman walk away and, when the doors finally closed, let himself slide to the floor. Tony was married… to someone else. Tony wasn’t his husband anymore. Never had been, not in this strange world. He grabbed both sides of his head and squeezed hard enough to rip some hair out. He hated this world. God, he hated this world.

“Sir? Are you alright?”

He turned his attention to the young woman who was talking to him, only just aware that the elevator had stopped and he was, once more, in the lobby. He got up slowly, not really replying to the woman, and left, eyes filled with tears, as the beefy bodyguard accompanied him, a few steps behind. It was already dark outside. Steve got into his car and started driving, not really knowing where he was going.

_ Home _ .  _ I wanna go home _ , he thought. He just wasn’t so sure how to get there.

* * *

Bucky was lying on the couch, eating something that look an awful lot like shrimp. He turned his eyes to the door as soon as Steve walked through it and immediately put the small container on the nearby table, chewing fast while he turned his attention to his best friend.

“Wow, you look awful, Stevie. What happened?”

Steve felt his lower lip tremble slightly as he desperately tried to contain his tears.

“I’m fine”.

“Man, you are not fine. Stop with the bullshit and tell me what’s going on”, Bucky begged, getting up, “You’re worrying me, Stevie”.

“I’m fine”, he replied, this time with more certainty in his voice, “I swear, I’m fine”.

Bucky rolled his eyes and raised his hands in a gesture that clearly showed he was giving up.

“You know what, punk? Fine. You can tell me about it when you’re ready. Whatever. I’ll be here waiting”.

He sat back down again, a deep scowl on his face, and took back the container, stuffing two whole shrimps in his mouth.

“Dinner’s on the table, if you want any”.

Steve didn’t respond, just took off into the corridor and to his room. He wasn’t hungry at all. In fact, he was pretty sure that, if he tried to eat right now, he’d just throw it all up. He closed the door to his bedroom, touching the cold wood with his forehead and closing his eyes for a moment.

“Awful, isn’t it?”

For the second time that day, Steve turned abruptly at the unknown voice behind him and accidentally hitting his elbow on the door. He cursed loudly, holding his arm close to his chest, and stared at the old man standing in front of him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

“That is of no consequence, Mr. Rogers”, the man replied without much worry, “My identity is unimportant. The appropriate question would be ‘why are you here’?”

“Okay. Why are you here?”

“I am here to help you in this journey”, he clarified in a no-nonsense tone.

The man looked old and very dignified. He was wearing a nice suit, but not nice enough to indicate that he was an important business man, with a colorful red tie. His hair was gray, with spots that told Steve it had once been nut-brown, and he stood tall, with his chin up and his shoulders back, vaguely reminding Steve of a soldier.

“What journey?”

“The journey you have been set upon, of course. It is quite awful, isn’t it? Discovering that one’s love is no longer theirs. A sad predicament”.

Steve’s eyes widened and he stepped closer to the man, now very much interested in what he had to say.

“Wait… You mean Tony?”

“Yes, of course. What else could I possibly mean?” the old man replied, rolling his eyes.

“So… So you know I don’t belong here. You know this isn’t my life”.

“Oh, but is is, Mr. Rogers. See, you made a wish and this”, he gestured to the room around here, “is the consequence of said wish”.

“A wish?” Steve whispered to himself, confused as to what exactly the man meant, when suddenly, it hit him.  _ The wish. _

_ I wish we had never met _ .

“Oh, no”, he said, walking slowly towards the bed and letting himself fall on it, “No, no, no, no…”

“I’m afraid it is so. You made a wish to the universe and the universe granted it”.

“No, no, that wasn’t… I wasn’t…”, Steve put his head on his hands, groaning, “I didn’t actually mean that!”

“Didn’t you?” the man asked with a raised eyebrow, “Did you not, in that moment, wish you had never met your husband because you wholeheartedly believed that he would be better off without you?”

Steve stayed silent for a moment, shaking his head. The man was right. He had truly believed that Tony would be better off if they had never met… and wasn’t he? He had a tower with his name on it, he was the CEO of Stark Industries. He was rich, famous, had everything he could possibly need or want. He didn’t have to worry about rent, or food, or any bills. He didn’t have to work in a crappy company that paid little to nothing and completely overlooked his genius.

He lifted his head with a deep sigh, “You’re right. I did believe that and I was right. He is much better without me”.

“Are you quite sure of that?”

“He has everything. A house, a wife, a company, money…”

The man looked at him, disapprovingly. “Do you believe that is all one requires to be happy?”

“No, but…”

“Then perhaps you should make sure Mr. Stark is, indeed, better without you before arriving to such conclusions”, he interrupted with a stern look, “As it happens, I can help you with that”.

“How?”

“I can show you how your wish has changed things… If you’ll allow me”.

Steve nodded, whispering a desperate  _ yes _ .

The old man walked slowly towards Steve and, when he was close enough, lightly touched his forehead. Everything went immediately black.

* * *

They were in the middle of a street Steve knew all too well. He had no idea how they had gotten there, but figured he might as well give up on trying to think logically in this illogical situation. The old man was standing beside him, his eyes fixed at a random point, completely silent. Steve, on the other hand, started turning around, watching the people that walked around them, ignoring their presence.

“They can’t see us?”

“They cannot”, the man replied, still not looking at Steve, “Do you remember what happened here?”

How could he not?

_ Steve was late for class… again. Sometimes he envied the people who did not have to work themselves to the bone in some crappy diner just to afford college. It sucked. God, how it sucked. _

_ He looked down at his watch again and curse. He was so so late. The worst part was Mr. Sullivan was his first class and the man was an absolute asshole. There was no way he’d let Steve in the class fifteen minutes after it started and he’d most likely not accept his essay later. He was so fucked. _

_ Steve was so distracted by his thoughts that he did not see another young man running towards him. Both slammed into each other, falling like a couple of old trees. _

_ “Shit! I’m so sorry!” _

_ “It’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going either”, Steve replied, a hand on his head, trying to think through the pain. _

_ “NO! SHIT SHIT SHIT”. _

_ He opened one eye first, then the other, and watched as the younger man ran around the place, desperately trying to catch the papers that must have fallen out of his open backpack. _

_ Steve quickly got up and helped him, running after the sheets of paper that were near him. When they finally managed to catch them up, they met up again. _

_ “Wow, thanks! I’d probably kill myself if I’d lost that”. _

_ “What is it?”, he asked, looking curiously at the drawings. It looked like some sort of machine and there was a lot of math around it. _

_ “Something important”, the young man replied, unceremoniously taking the piece of paper out of his hands, “Thanks again… Wow! Just noticed, you’re hot”. _

_ Steve immediately blushed and snorted at the cheesy pick up line. _

_ “Sorry, didn’t mean to say that out loud!”, he apologized, throwing the papers inside his backpack without much care, “I haven’t slept in, like, two weeks and I just drank eighteen shots of espresso”. _

_ “That doesn’t sound very healthy”, Steve replied, frowning. _

_ “Nah, it’s fine. My body is totally used to it”. _

_ “Okay…” _

_ “So, my name is Tony. What’s yours?” _

_ “Steve”, he said, offering his hand, which Tony quickly accepted, shaking it. _

_ “Nice to meet you, Steve”, still holding Steve’s hand, Tony turned it and took a marker from his pocket, opening it with his mouth and scribbling a phone number on it, “This is me. Don’t know if you’re into guys, but if you are, give me a call”. _

_ Steve pulled his hand back, looking at the number on it with a frown. _

_ “Okay, I gotta run now, hot stuff, thanks again for helping, sorry again for hitting your wall of muscles with my face, bye, call me”, Tony said in one breath, running away in a hurry. _

_ Steve watched the other man go and then looked down at the number once again. He smiled and took his phone out of his pocket, saving said number. He was definitely going to give the crazy coffee guy a call later. _

“Yeah, I remember”, he replied with a smile, letting the memory of how they had met wash over him.

“As you wished, this day never happened. You decided to help out a friend at the diner by covering their shift and so, when the time came…”, the old man gestured to the street, where a younger Tony walked in a fast pace, scowling at a piece of paper, without paying much attention to his surroundings, “... Mr. Stark continued on his way home without any interruptions”.

Steve felt his heart tighten as he watched the love of his life walk away, completely unaware of him.

In the blink of an eye, Steve found himself looking through the big glass window that covered Tony’s favorite coffee shop, where they’d had their first date. He watched, unmoving, as Tony and another version of himself laughed over coffee and donuts. The image, however, did not last long. It suddenly started to fade until there was only his husband, sitting down alone, drinking coffee and typing away in a computer.

He touched the cold glass, wanting more than anything to touch his husband’s face instead.

“Mr. Stark did not have many friends. Mr. Rhodes was away, fighting for his country, and, because you two never met, Mr. Stark was never introduced to Ms. Potts”.

_ God, Pepper _ , Steve thought to himself, taking a deep breath,  _ how can there be a world where Tony and Pepper don’t know each other? _

“Without his friends, it was easy for Ms. Bain to capture Mr. Stark’s attention”.

Steve froze. The coffee house suddenly became a very familiar place. The penthouse. The woman from before, who Steve now recognized as Sunset Bain, was screaming at Tony, a big diamond ring on her finger.

God, how had he not recognized her before? Of course it was her. The horrible woman who had drugged Tony, who wanted to join the Stark empire so bad she had resorted to… God, what had he done?

“He can’t be married to that monster”, Steve shouted, angrily turning his head towards the old man.

“Mr. Rhodes was overseas, unable to maintain contact. Ms. Potts and yourself were not a part of Mr. Stark’s life”, something in the old man’s tone changed when he spoke next, “even the one man who dedicated his life to young Mr. Stark was no longer around to guide him. There was no one to protect him”.

“How can he… How can he be with her? He knows her”, he shouted yet again, pulling his hair as he desperately tried to reason with the old man.

“Ms. Bain was the daughter of a wealthy politician”, the old man supplied, watching as understanding filled Steve’s eyes.

“Howard Stark”.

The man nodded. “Indeed. Master Stark saw an opportunity. He insisted that a marriage between young Mr. Stark and Ms. Bain would be beneficial to the company. The company that Mr. Stark would, one day, inherit”.

Sunset Bain grabbed a vase and threw it in Tony’s direction, missing by very little. She left the room, stomping her feet as she walked up the stairs. Tony stayed behind. He sat down on the couch and covered his face with his hands, looking more tired than Steve had ever seen him.

“He never cared about the company. Why would he accept something like that?” Steve asked, confused.

“Because, for the first time in his entire life, his father was proud of him. He gave up a chance at love, a chance at happiness, for one kind word from his father”, the old man said with a somewhat quavering voice, “Young Mr. Stark spent his life being belittled and ignored by the very people who were supposed to love him unconditionally. There were some who tried to give him the praise and love he needed to grow, but I’m afraid their effort was not enough. And then you showed up in his life”.

Steve looked over at the old man, his eyes filled with tears for his love.

“You, who did not have to love him, but did anyway. You, who did not care about his wealth or his name, but only for the man he was. You, who cared for him like no other had ever cared before. You, who covered him in sincere praise, who smiled with admiration every time he created something new. You, who never once raised his voice to him”, the old man explained in a calm, soothing tone, “It is true that Mr. Stark lost many things when he chose to be with you, Mr. Rogers, but none of those things had ever made him happy. You, however… One smile from you was worth everything in Mr. Stark’s eyes”.

He could no longer hold back the tears now. He openly cried, holding his head on his hands as he sobbed.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

The old man stepped closer and put a hand on Steve’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I know you wished him only the best, my son. You have always had trouble accepting the sacrifices that the people around you were ready to make for you. I’m sure your dear mother would agree with me”.

Steve did not reply, merely continued to sob. The guilt and the sorrow were eating him alive and he couldn’t breathe. The old man was right. How many times had his mother told him that? How many times had Bucky slapped him on the head and told him the exact same thing? It was so hard for him to understand, though. His brain just wouldn’t let him. Why would his mother work to the bone to feed a child that might as well have died at birth? Why would she work herself sick for a boy that had more health issues than an old man? It made no sense.

_ Love, Stevie _ , she would say, stroking his hair, when he voiced his doubts,  _ is love not enough for an answer? _

Why would Bucky come back to the fiery car after he managed to drag himself away? Why would he put strain on his already mangled arm just to pull Steve out of the fire and away from the burning vehicle? Why would he knowingly risk a promising career playing Baseball for him?

_ You’re my brother, you idiot, _ he’d said that day at the hospital, when Steve asked him about it,  _ I’d give both arms and legs for you because I love your dumb asthmatic ass, so just deal with it _ .

“And what did Mr. Stark say?” the old man asked, as if aware of Steve’s thoughts, “What did he say when you asked him?”

The memory suddenly filled the room.

_ “Tony, you need to think this through. Why would you give up everything for this?” he had asked, gesturing to the crappy and still empty apartment they had just rented. _

_ But Tony just smiled and kissed his cheek, looking around like a proud king looks at his kingdom, “Because I can build an empire from the ground up, just like my father did. I can make a name for myself, I can build my own company, I can change the world. Because of you, for the first time in my life, I feel like I’m strong enough to do anything. Because loving you and being loved by you is the only thing I truly need to live. The rest… The rest we can achieve with time… together. Now, stop cosplaying Moaning Myrtle and put your superman muscles to good use. We need to bring that couch up here!” _

Steve shook his head, a small smile on his lips as he remembered that day.

“I get it now. I get it. I’m sorry. Please, take me back”, he begged with a low voice, sniffing.

“There is one last part of this story. One last part and then you can decide if you’d like to go back or stay here”.

Steve got up just as the room changed yet again. This time, he was in a big room, full of people. He’d recognize this place anywhere. They were standing in the great hall of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. He could see Pepper talking to some men in suits. He could see Bucky and another version of himself drinking champagne and talking with a blonde woman, who seemed to be flirting. His other self looked a bit older, he noticed.

“Is this the future?”

“This is a future”, the old man replied, pointing at some paintings with his head.

Steve stepped closer to one of them and his eyes widened in surprise. The paintings were his. They were showing his art in one of the most famous museums of the world. Happiness and pride filled his chest, but it was then he finally noticed that something was missing.

“Where’s Tony?”

The old man didn’t respond. Suddenly, the room fell silent as Pepper began to speak.

“It is a pleasure for me to be here today, talking about such an incredible artist. Steve, the passion and the love you put in each canvas are inspiring. May you continue to gift us with such amazing pieces”.

The room erupted in cheers and applause as his other self shyly thanked them.

“Where’s Tony?” Steve repeated, turning his back at the people who continued to applaud him.

The old man took one look at Steve and then looked away. The room started to fade one last time.

They were back at the same street where Steve and Tony had first met. It was a beautiful night, with stars shining in the dark sky and a big, full moon illuminating the streets. Tony was there, sitting on the bridge, watching not the sky, but the river that flowed beneath him.

“What’s he doing?”

The old man beside Steve sighed, “It was not merely an unhappy marriage, Mr. Rogers. It was an abusive relationship. Ms. Bain knew his weaknesses and used them against him without restraint. Mr. Stark threw himself at his work. He tried to change the world, but the only thing Howard Stark and Obadiah Stane wanted was to destroy it. Soon, even the work Mr. Stark so loved became a source of despair in his life. He watched as the weapons he created with his own hands were used to murder innocent people all around the world. He drank to forget, but the memories would not be washed away by the Bourbon. So, one day… he made a decision”.

“NO!” Steve desperately screamed as he watched Tony push himself from the bridge and into the river. He ran towards him, but it was like the world had suddenly gone into slow motion. Instead of becoming closer, the bridge seemed to get farther away.

_ Please, take me back! Please, please, I don’t want this! Please, I love him, please, take me back! _

* * *

Steve woke up with a start, making the whole tent fall over him.

“What? Steve, what’s wrong?” Tony shouted, having been awaken by his husband’s violent outburst.

“Tony?” Steve asked, blinking the tears away as he desperately tried to grab his husband.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s alright”, Tony replied, pulling Steve closer to his chest and holding him down as he cried, “Sweetheart, it’s okay, it was just a nightmare”.

He rocked Steve, whispering soothing nothings in his ears as he continued to cry. It took him a good half an hour to finally calm down.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head and just buried his head on Tony’s neck.

“I love you”.

Tony smiled, kissing his temple, “I love you too”.

They stayed like that for a few more minutes, basking on each other’s presence, until Tony couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sweetheart, I’m really sorry, but I desperately need to pee”, he whispered, making Steve snort a laugh.

He let go of his husband, who kissed him sweetly on the lips before running towards the bathroom.

Feeling a bit calmer, Steve decided to make some breakfast. Might as well occupy his mind, maybe then the horrible dream he’d had would finally leave his mind. It had felt so real, though… He could still clearly see the street where Tony… He shook his head, willing the image to go away. His husband was fine, he was here, safe and sound, probably getting ready so they could go to the grocery store after breakfast. Everything was fine.

“OH, MAN”, came the complaint from their room.

Steve turned off the stove and dried his hands on the dirty towel by the table, walking towards their bedroom.

_ The ceiling probably fell off, _ he thought to himself with a snort.

“What’s wrong?”

“My photo album was under the bed. It’s all wet. The pictures are fine, they were in these plastic thingies, but the album is soaked”, Tony complained as he quickly took the pictures from the wet mess and put them neatly around himself on the floor.

“It’s fine. We can get a new one”, Steve said, sitting down on the floor to help his husband.

A picture caught his eyes. A young Tony, probably eighteen, smiled to the camera with a familiar man standing by his side, his eyes full of pride.

“Tony…” Steve asked, his heart beating faster, “Who is this?”

His husband took the picture from his hand and smile after taking one good look at it.

“This is me and Jarvis at my graduation. My parents couldn’t go, they were in London or something, but he was there. Cried and everything”.

“Jarvis? Your butler, right?”

“Yeah. He pretty much raised me, you know? He died a few months before we met”.

“I know… I just… I’d never seen a picture of him”, Steve whispered softly, staring at the face of the familiar old man.

How could that be? He had heard of Edwin Jarvis before, of course he had, but this was the first time he had ever seen him. So how, how could he have been in Steve’s dream? It was impossible.

“You know, his kind of the reason we met”, Tony laughed, resting his head on his shoulder as they both looked at the picture.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I never walked home! I always took an Uber or, when I felt like fighting for a parking spot, I’d just drive myself to class. But that day I was about to take an Uber and I swear I heard Jarvis complaining about how I never exercise.  _ All that coffee and junk food is going to kill you if you keep going like this _ ”, Tony said with a slightly lower tone, most likely imitating Jarvis, “So I thought, you know what? Jarvis is right, I should definitely exercise more. So I canceled the Uber and decided to walk home. That was the day we met”.

“You heard Jarvis?”

“Yeah, it was pretty weird, but… I mean, he had died recently and I missed him, so I guess it’s kinda normal though, right?”

“Yeah… I hear my ma sometimes too”, Steve replied, never taking his eyes from the picture.

“Just leave the pictures to dry, I’ll find somewhere to put them later”, Tony said, giving Steve a kiss, “I’m going to make us some coffee. Go change so we can go to the grocery store! I want some chocolate!”

“Okay…” Steve replied, watching Tony go.

He got up from the floor, picture still safely in his hand, and walked towards their nightstand, carefully putting it there. He took one last look at it and smiled.

“Thank you for everything, Mr. Jarvis, but maybe next time you could be a bit more gentle with the wake up call?”

Steve would never tell anyone this, but he would swear on his mother’s life that he heard a faint snort and a soft chuckle as he left the room.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, I hope you liked this oneshot! I was feeling kind angsty here at home so I thought I'd write something!  
> I also hope you're all okay and protecting yourselves from this Covid madness. I live in a small town in Brazil and we just had our first three confirmed cases, with two dead and 50 yet unconfirmed cases. It's a bit scary, but we're doing everything we can to stop this from spreading, so I hope everything will be okay soon.  
> I still can't work, though, so I've been spending all my time watching Animal Crossing videos and writing lol I unfortunately won't be able to buy the game anytime soon due to 'not working' rn but it's been a lot of fun watching other people play it all the same! lol How have you guys been spending your time during the quarantine? Let me know!  
> Be safe and stay healthy! Love you all!


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